


The Stars and the Moon

by JynErsoinNYC



Category: Catalyst: A Rogue One Novel - James Luceno, Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-30 03:04:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15742890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JynErsoinNYC/pseuds/JynErsoinNYC
Summary: Jyn wakes up in bandages...





	1. A Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Song: Oblivion (feat. Susanne Sundfor) by M83

Death raced across the ocean in fiery waves.

 

Jyn Erso breathed in the light. She was not afraid.

 

Cassian shifted in the sand beside her and Jyn looked at him with a sad smile.

 

“Your father would have been proud of you, Jyn.” Cassian spoke with kindness and hope, and he looked at her like he had never done before.

 

Jyn felt her heart crack.

 

She placed a hand in his and helped him to his knees.

 

Cassian’s breathes were ragged in her ear. It was a small comfort to know he wouldn’t be in pain for too long.

 

He wrapped his arms around her and held her close to him. She blinked away the tears that pooled along her lashes.

 

They knelt in each other’s embrace until the light and heat engulfed them.


	2. A Scavenge

Borg shifted through the debris, flinging charred sheets of metal, skeletal remains of palms and huge clumps of blackened sand out of his path.

 

He was going to win this, god dammit!

 

Borg scanned his surroundings, searching for anything of value.

 

Faraway conversation carried across the barren wasteland as his fellow crew-mates also hunted for weapons, armour and salvageable remains of the thousands of crashed X-wings and TIE fighters.

 

Not even two hours had passed since the Island had been destroyed.

 

The Roamers had witnessed the battle end and had waited off-world until the Rebel Alliance had disappeared into hyperspace and the Empire had crawled away to lick their wounds.

 

A war zone could be a gold mine if you weren’t fussy about the prizes being used.

 

Borg spotted something thin and charred sticking out from underneath a mound of debris. Upon closer inspection he grunted in disgust.

 

An arm. A burned arm.

 

The dead were not on the list of items for scavenging. He kicked the seared limb off to the side with a shudder.

 

The mound of sand and scrap shifted.

 

Borg yelped and stumbled backwards, sending a puff of ash into the air as he landed on the ground. He stared, wide-eyed and startled, as the charred arm twitched, and a muffled groan escaped the pile of metal and vegetation.

 

Could it be?

 

Borg scrambled to his feet and began tossing junk left and right. A leg appeared among the debris, and a torso and a shoulder. He heaved away a fallen log and stared down in awe.

 

A chest rose up and down lightly.

 

Borg could just make out a female body. It was too singed to notice details or facial features, but she was breathing and alive.

 

Or at least not dead yet.

 

He shouted across the way, drawing his crew-mates attention with frenzied waves. They dropped their findings and ran to help him pull her free.

 

The girl remained unconscious as she was carried across the burned land and taken aboard their large, if not dinged-up cruiser vessel.

 

The group stared after her.

 

If one person had survived the explosion, could more have too?

 

It appeared Borg may have set a new challenge.

 

The Roamers began the hunt for survivors.


	3. A Thought

A faint buzzing interrupted the silence of death.

 

_Strange._

 

The noise irritated her.

 

Why couldn’t she rest in peace?

 

Then again, how was she able to think about resting in peace?

 

She was dead, after all.


	4. Bandages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just want to let you know that the chapters will be getting longer xx

Jyn’s eyes fluttered open.

 

A brightness blinded her.

 

She closed them again.

 

What was happening?

 

In the darkness, she tried to think.

 

First, _she could think._

 

She was alive. She was lying on something soft. The smell of bacta stung her nostrils. A familiar buzzing filtered in.

 

Jyn opened her eyes again and let them adjust.

 

She was lying on a bed in a makeshift infirmary. The room was small and empty. Across from her, she could see the blue tunnel of hyperspace through the slits in the wall.

 

Jyn tried to move, but something heavy weighed her down. She moved her eyes to look at her body.

 

Bandages.

 

She was made of bandages.

 

Scarif. The Death Star. _Cassian._

 

How was this possible?

 

How was she breathing?

 

How was–

 

A bang.

 

A door against a wall.

 

Jyn couldn’t look anywhere but in front of her, so she waited until someone entered her periphery.

 

“You weren’t supposed to wake,” a voice said. It was deep, but still feminine.

 

The figure didn’t move, so Jyn was left struggling to shift her head.

 

“Where am I?”

 

They didn’t speak.

 

“What is this?

 

Nothing.

 

“Answer me,” Jyn hissed.

 

She felt it approach the side of the bed and heard it fiddle with something.

 

“I’m giving you another dosage, before you feel the pain.”

 

Suddenly, she felt a sharp pinch down near her wrist. Jyn grimaced as a thick liquid was pumped into her vein.

 

“What is that?”

 

No answer again.

 

“Who are you?”

 

Another bang.

 

Jyn was left alone.

 

Her eyes fluttered.

 

Just before oblivion, she felt her skin erupt into flames.


	5. Sedatives and Silences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things will be picking up pace soon...

A cry pierced the silence.

 

It was ignored.

 

An arbitrary cry was common on the cruiser, especially during scheduled sleep hours. Not one of the Roamers had come from a past that didn’t warrant a nightmare.

 

But this cry morphed into a scream.

 

An endless scream.

 

It woke the Roamers from their sleep, cursing about how morality and good deeds were overrated.

 

“Toss em’ through the airlock,” someone yelled.

 

There were rumblings of agreement.

 

“Settle down, settle down,” Ferquel muttered as he passed though the rows and rows of occupied bunks. “I’ll quieten them.”

 

The screaming grew louder as the elder hurried through the cruiser to the med-wing. They had left hyperspace behind hours ago and now floated in orbit around a relatively untouched planet they used to gather food. Its cloudy atmosphere glowed through the windows lining the passageway. 

 

At this stage, Ferquel didn’t have any doubts that the scream was coming from the male infirmary. It was deep and rasping.

 

When he reached the med-wing, the Roamers’ old, battered med-droid, KO-KO-4, sat outside the door in low-power mode – a quality of content satisfaction in a good day's work practically radiating off of it. 

 

KO-KO-4 was the epitome of unintelligent. It had fooled its own programming into thinking it was any good at med-work. The Roamers only kept it around because it needed a home.

 

Ferquel shifted around KO-KO-4 and entered the room.

 

Three survivors.

 

Four, if you counted the girl next door.

 

The screamer lay in the first bed, wrapped in layers and layers of bandages. Blood stained them crimson along the stump below his knee.

 

When he spotted Ferquel in the doorway, he stopped thrashing and his terrible screams turned into pained gasps.

 

Ferquel went straight to the monitor and examined his heart-rate. The dosages were affecting them all differently. Twice the humanoid in the next bed had woken. Apparently, the girl next door had even spoken. The dark-haired man in the last bed had remained unconscious the entire time. The procedure to close the wound on the back of his head had been long and complicated, and Ferquel had a suspicion it might have caused some brain trauma.

 

Ferquel administered the screamer another dosage. The Roamers’ supply of sedative was quickly disappearing. They had already traded at Orba Outpost for more, spending a good portion of their units for it.

 

Ferquel knew that some of the Roamers weren’t happy about this “charity case”. He had calmly reminded them to treat their neighbours the way they would treat themselves.

 

The man quickly fell under, a grimace still etched into his red, shrivelled face. His injuries were the worst. Completely burned, half his leg gone. The bacta tank hadn’t helped his skin in any way. If time didn’t do it, Ferquel was afraid nothing would.

 

The other three, however, had gradually improved. Two weeks of complete sedation and continual submersion in bacta had soothed most of their burns. When they woke next, hopefully they wouldn’t need to sleep any longer.

 

Ferquel returned to his bunk, the cruiser silent again.

 

It was only interrupted once more, when a young boy a few bunks over whimpered in his sleep and didn't feel the tears slip down his cheeks. 

 


End file.
